Big Girls Don’t Cry

January 20, 2015 § Leave a comment

Rose writes, As of late, I have slowly been growing more and more attached to the movie Jersey Boys. I have such an appreciation for the movie and characters that is growing so quickly, it’s begun to interfere with my life. Do you have any ideas as to how I can control this overwhelming desire to break out into song, and to stop fangirling over thoughts about my ships, while I’m trying to do my daily routine?

PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER ROSE. But don’t you dare feel ashamed about the overwhelming desire to break out into song. People who don’t like musicals are dead inside. They are too busy watching NCIS: Fort Wayne or whatever to realize how horrible they are. I mean there are countless health benefits to breaking out into song. Bernadette Peters is basically immortal at this point. I mean look at her. What the actual fuck.

Your problem isn’t Frankie Valli, Rose. The problem is that you’re not making Frankie work for you. Is there a way you can incorporate some of your interests to motivate you in your daily routine? Can you slap a screencap on a checklist and give yourself gold stars? Use fic or your hairbrush solo as a reward? The other strategy would be to really look at what this obsession can tell you about yourself. Is it a distraction from self-doubt about a goal you have, or is it pointing towards something you really, really want Rose? If we spent as much time listening to our creys as we do flailing about, we might really learn something. It always feels nice to obsess in the moment, butttttt nice There’s a time to dance around like an idiot, and there’s a time for shipping. But there’s also a time for reality. When Jersey Boys swept Broadway, Ben Brantley at The New York Times wrote this. “Everything that has led up to that curtain call feels, for just a second, as real and vivid as the sting of your hands clapping together.” As corny as it sounds, I’m going to ask you this: what if you started living your life like there was a curtain call at the end of every day? Like the success of a thousand middle-aged white people’s evenings depended on you being brave and giving it your best effort? What would that be like? Big girls cry sometimes, Rose. But they also get shit done. So have at it.

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